


Tangled Up In Blue

by JessaLRynn



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:34:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessaLRynn/pseuds/JessaLRynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor was standing there on the platform, bare-chested, and painted to within an inch of his life.  He had his arms folded up over his chest and was wearing a glower that could cut diamonds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up In Blue

  
The Doctor was standing there on the platform, bare-chested, and painted to within an inch of his life. He had his arms folded up over his chest and was wearing a glower that could cut diamonds.

And a loin cloth.

Nothing else.

Not one stitch.

Rose sighed and shook her head. "Yeah, he's mine," she said, managing to sound like she was talking about a lost puppy. "Where'd you find him, anyway?" Maybe that would clue her in to the location of her other missing companion. Probably not, though, because Jack and the Doctor had had entirely different missions when they started this... adventure. (Jack had only suggested they come here for the drinks, anyway, as she remembered. The Doctor had been the one with an actual goal in mind... such as it was.)

"Actually, he was part of the cargo of a land ship full of stolen aliens. All the slavers disappeared and the ship blew up. Weirdest thing."

Rose hid a smirk. Yeah, maybe explosions were weird if they were talking about other people. Not the Doctor. "Do I need to sign anything?" she asked.

"No, not really. Do you want us to put your mark on him, properly, Miss? We've been offering that service to all the folks who've come in. It helps prevent theft. He's not likely to go wandering off, this one, asked us to call you to fetch him."

"Are the marks those earrings?" she asked. "Sorry if I sound stupid, I'm new at this. Just got him, you know."

"Yes, just two quick punctures, rarely even draw blood."

Rose pretended to consider, watching out the corner of her eye as that glower hardened to frozen blue steel. "No, I don't think so. I'm quite happy with his ears the way they are."

The lady officer looked at Rose as if she'd lost her mind and Rose shrugged. "They're sensitive," she confided softly.

"Ah," said the officer and she stifled a giggle. "So that's why he wants to go home so badly."

"Yeah, just rub his ears and he'll follow you anywhere," Rose commented flippantly. "What happened to his clothes? I'm quite partial to the coat I had him in."

"We did recover a few personal effects." She named off a small list of things, some of which had already been claimed, she said. Finally, she arrived at, "A black leather coat?"

"Yes, yes, oh fantastic, I definitely wouldn't want to lose that." Rose grinned at the police officer, then turned a grin on the glower behind her, and nodded happily, hoping to cheer him up a bit with this development.

"Right. Well, we've had to lock it up with the evidence for the night. Can you come collect it in the morning?"

"Yes, that's fine," Rose said, although it really wasn't. She was going to have to drag him all the way back to her hotel in this outfit and he was probably going to have steam rolling out his rather impressive ears by the time they got there. She would take him back to the TARDIS so he could restore his dignity quickly, but the TARDIS was still on the other side of the planet. Rose had had to take public transportation to get here, use the psychic paper to shill a hotel room so she could make herself look presentable, and come to recover her "stolen property" before he had to stay the night. Frankly, she was frustrated and tired and since she couldn't do anything with the frustration, she thought she might like to sleep for a week.

"Um," said Rose, as an afterthought, "if he doesn't turn up in a day or so, can I put in a missing persons here? Knowing Jack, he's probably claimed he's an alien and sold himself into someone's harem, but..."

The police woman laughed. "Can you just imagine that? Wonder if I could make a few quid off my husband? Yeah, come by here if he doesn't turn up."

Rose grinned. "Thanks. Come on, Doctor," she added to the barely dressed, seething alien who had been watching all this exchange with nearly palpable disdain.

He finally stepped down from the little display stand they had put him on for her to check and be sure he was hers. She'd been able to describe him well enough upstairs, but they had to go through the formalities. "Identifying features? How can you see 'em; they told me he'd been painted? He's got two hearts, though."

And that had secured the deal. They had brought him out, and he had grinned ecstatically for five seconds until, being deprived of his usual "we didn't die" hug, he had had to stand still while Rose walked around him, admiring the artwork. She'd had to take the time, using it to compose herself, really, or she would have died of choking down her giggles.

Rose had already decided she wasn't hugging him until she'd had time alone in a long bath, at least two cold showers, and he was wearing everything he usually wore, and maybe a few more things besides. Otherwise, she just might not be responsible for her actions.

She'd known he was hiding something rangy and lanky and probably quite sexy under that jumper and jeans combo, but she'd never dared to imagine this. "Tell you what," she ordered him, "you walk in front of me."

He tilted his head in the accepted manner and moved toward the door. She'd probably never see it again, painted blue or otherwise, for the rest of her life, so she was definitely going to admire that while she had a chance. Besides, if he took her hand, she still might jump him and if he walked behind her, someone else would get to look at it and she wasn't having that. He was her Doctor and, on this planet at least, she had the paperwork to prove it.

"Oh my," said the policewoman admiringly.

"Tell me about it," said Rose. And she followed the Doctor and his completely gorgeous arse out of the station.

*?*

"What was all that about?" the Doctor demanded the instant they were outside.

"What? Talking? I was being polite."

"No, just that last."

"Just keep walking," Rose answered, her eyes glued to the way his spare muscles flexed and the designs all over his backside - from his shoulders to his ankles - glittered and sparkled in the streetlights.

"What are you looking at?" he insisted after a few minutes.

"You," she blurted honestly. To cover that, she added, "You should see this paint job, it's amazing." She thought about her mobile back in her room. Could she get away with it? Might just have to try. "Left at the end of the street."

"Can't you come up here where I can see you?" he asked plaintively after taking the requested turn.

"Not letting you out of my sight again 'til we're back home," she replied. "I'd've been going spare, but the TARDIS said you were alive and still here."

"The TARDIS told you?" he asked, sounding completely confused.

"I kinda demanded."

"Yeah, but She talked to you?"

Why was he asking? He talked to the TARDIS all the time. Him in the kitchen was like a comedy show, the two of them having a go at each other. "Yeah, does it all the time, didn't you know? You said She was alive and in my head, so I asked Her about my dress for Christmas, and we've been talking ever since."

"That cheeky..." He degenerated into the jangling cacophony that was his native tongue, a lost language that she didn't understand, but had made a point to try to memorize every word she heard, even if it wasn't polite. Someday he might forget how it sounded on another's lips and she wanted to be able to remind him, even if she had to be unconscionably rude to do it.

"What's wrong?" she asked gently, reaching hesitantly, trying to decide if it was safe to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing," he said. "This our stop?" He gestured at the golden sculpture of a hotel in front of them.

"Yeah. Room 86. You know, I'd've thought you'd be furious by now, running around like that."

He shrugged. It was a work of art so beautiful as his wiry muscles moved in his shoulders and across his back that she worried she'd drool every time he did it from now on just from having this memory. "S'pose it's just skin and I do have all this paint covering everything up, more or less."

Mostly less, Rose thought. He looked like he'd been dipped in blue paint and then decorated and, while Rose could admire the results, she actually hated the artist with a passion. That this unknown person had gotten to trail a paint brush over her Doctor, picking out his details in gold and silver, trimming it all in fine black lines, and the occasional bright band of color, set her blood boiling. Rose deeply resented the unknown man or woman for having had both the audacity and the opportunity to do something she now dearly wished she'd thought of first.

She had to admit that the artist had taste. The planes and angles of the Doctor's body had all been highlighted in gold and silver. The designs on his back, which looked suspiciously like alien lettering, were sketched in just so to best show off such features as the dip of his spine or the contours of his shoulder blades. It seemed even the painter had known his bum was too gorgeous to fool with, as it appeared to have been merely dusted with the gold powder in a pattern that made her want to scream (it looked suspiciously like hand prints). Just below his knees, the drawing became ornate imitation sandals, done in red and blue and green, along with black and silver, highlighting his long, slender feet. Good thing this planet was mostly smoothly paved and temperate or he'd be in a lot of trouble right now. What really killed her, though, was what looked like an ornate celtic knot in every possible bright color, drawn across the expanse of his chest, curling around his nipples (tipped in gold) and his navel.

They got in the lift with several others and now stood side by side at the back. Several of the people in the lift were openly gawking at the pair of them and when they got to the third floor and stopped, it seemed like one opinionated woman had had all the waiting she could take. "Interesting purchase," the woman told her with a sniff of disdain. Rose rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the woman, but it didn't seem to help. "Honestly, the harems reject them for a reason, little girl. You should have hired a broker to pick your alien out for you. And the ears..." The woman snorted disdainfully and looked the Doctor over critically. "Physical appearance should be..."

Coldly, Rose interrupted before the woman could continue. "Tell you what, you think I made a bad choice, watch us leave." The lift arrived at the eighth floor and she firmly took the Doctor's arm and led him out, turning her head slightly to shoot the know-it-all cow a pointed look. The woman's mouth was hanging open. Rose grinned proudly and continued down the hall.

"Now, that I know was something," the Doctor said.

"Just culture shock," Rose claimed. Did she have the nerve to tell him that she was showing him off like a trophy, that she'd put his lithe, easy grace up against any of the pretty boys she'd ever met? No, not in this lifetime. Even Jack, who had no qualms about running around the ship completely starkers, was not this lovely, and Jack was a beautiful man.

"And what is all this about my ears?" he added.

"While you were out chasing the rogue slavers and getting yourself a lovely new paint job, I learned a lot about the regular people in this place," she said, and waved the key card in front of their door. "Ears are just one of those features they admire here, like in America in my time they're completely obsessed with how perfect their teeth are, or like that last planet where everyone thought my hair meant I was favored by the gods. It's just their thing. Plus, I'm bettin' this paint all over your back is actually words that the TARDIS won't translate into English for me because you told Her not to do."

Glancing carefully at his face, she led him inside the room she'd secured for the night. "Busted," she sing-songed. Even blue and highlighted with gold and silver glitter, she could still recognize his sheepish, almost guilty expression.

"It's all your fault, anyway," he said, petulantly.

"How was this my fault?" she demanded. "You're the one who just had to go lounging around, practically wearing a sign that said 'alien', an' hopin' to get kidnapped."

"I was expecting to eventually get picked up for manual labor, Rose. Certainly not stolen to be sold into a harem. And I would've been, except they saw me with you."

"Did they capture Jack?" she wondered.

"Nah. Got to talk to him before they called you. He's down in Lytre, in the bar district, drinking and acting like... well, like Jack. Lad's having a grand time, said he'd meet us back on the TARDIS tomorrow afternoon."

"Seems kinda stupid, all the aliens being considered... well." She shot him a pointed look.

He chuckled. "Well, if they didn't like it, I can't imagine why they'd even come here, the aliens, I mean." There was something funny in his expression while he gazed back at her. "S'pose it can be a bit nice, being a kept person, if the owner's the right one."

Flustered, and certain he didn't mean anything her imagination wanted him to mean, she sought to change the subject quickly. "I still think we oughtta just overthrow the government and collapse the whole stupid system," she said.

"Two years, Rose, and it'll happen," he promised, and wandered away to look around the room she'd secured for them.

"But, then you went through all this for nothing."

"The rogue slavers had to be brought down now," he said, pacing slowly, looking as comfortable standing mostly naked in front of her as he ever did fully clothed in the Console Room. She suspected his lecturing was helping him keep his mind off his state of dress. Such as it was.

"Why just them?" she wondered, willing to go with the idea of concentrating on his lecture to keep her mind off his state of pretty near undress and how reaching out to snag one fragile bit of cord would... Bad Rose.

"They'd've prevented the uprising that's gonna happen, or at least turned it into a blood bath. This system here, it's a bit stupid, yeah, an' I don't care for it, but s'not my place to tell a bunch o' idiots they can't keep all the aliens on their planet as concubines or pets or whatever. If the aliens didn't sorta go with it a bit, though, that uprising that's coming, which is just s'posed to be pretty much a walk-out strike, wouldn't happen that way. I don't see how I can help 'em. They can leave when they want, you know. The slave traders were what concerned me, because they usually took the people they captured - 'cept for a few exceptional cases - off planet and sold 'em to mines and terra-forming outfits in the outlying sectors. I've put in a message an' the Shadow Proclamation'll be here to collect the rest of the rubbish tomorrow."

"I'm glad you didn't get taken off planet, might've lost you and I couldn't bear it."

He smiled, then, that tender, gentle smile that made his eyes sparkle so beautifully. The effect was far more pronounced with the paint and she abruptly realized that the paint color had been selected to match his eyes. "I'd've found my way back, I promise."

"Well, I'm still relieved, even if I still don't see how you getting sold into a harem is my fault." She walked over to the bed and flopped backward onto it, glaring at the ceiling and wishing she'd thought to get them separate rooms. Well, but how was she supposed to know she'd end up stuck with a mostly naked Doctor? And if he kept wandering around looking yummy but blue, she was going to drag him into the bath and wash that paint off him with long, slow strokes, gradually revealing wet, clean Doctor and... Stop it.

"Because you're beautiful, Rose," the Doctor said. She blinked in shock at the matter of fact way he said it, like it wasn't up for debate, just a fact that was as true as him being a Time Lord or Jack trying to shag anything that moved (and quite a few things that didn't). It was a vast improvement over "considering you're human". She sat up and looked at him and he shrugged again as he watched her. "They figured if a beautiful girl like you'd have me, I had to be capable of some pretty impressive tricks."

She would never, ever be able to answer if anyone had asked her where the husky, soft voice that spoke next came from. "And are you?" that voice asked. The way his eyes widened and stared at her, however, suggested strongly that the voice came from her.

He swallowed hard and turned away. "Show a bit of that famous human kindness o' yours, Rose, an' don't tease me right now."

He'd probably defeated his entire purpose in turning away, however, because now she had a clear view of his back side again and it was still gorgeous. "Who says I'm teasin'?" It was her voice, all right, that husky, sultry thing, a decidedly naughtier version of the one that had insisted he might want to move his feet if he wanted to show her his moves.

She was a bit surprised at her audacity, but she had loved him for so long and wanted him since "Run". Really, if he was going to stand there being mostly naked and completely beautiful and technically hers, then he was also going to have to stand there hearing foolish, wishful thinking coming out of her mouth because she couldn't seem to make it stop. She let her gaze travel over him, lingering at his sleekly defined shoulders, his narrow waist, his tight bum, his runner's thighs.

"Feelin' a bit exposed, here," he murmured.

She rose from the bed, walked slowly around him to where he was pointedly staring at the window - not out it, as it was closed and covered by heavy drapes. She smiled at him and reached up a hand to stroke his face. He flinched back. "Come here," she said. "I want to show you something."

"What?"

"You have to see it, Doctor," she insisted and, taking him by the hand, dragged him into the en suite. There was a full length mirror in there and she stood him in front of it and gestured at it. "Look."

"Yeah, old Time Lord, painted blue. This loin cloth thing is not a good look for me."

"You can take it off, if you want," she suggested cheekily.

He sputtered. "Rose!" he complained and turned around to gape at her incredulously.

"What?" she said. With a grin, she decided he wasn't going to see what she did while he was painted blue. "C'mon, you, shower." She gestured over her shoulder at the rather nice luxury walk-in shower.

"Excuse me?" the Doctor demanded.

"Well, you can't wash your own back, can you?" she asked, managing to say it almost innocently.

He stared at her, hard, and the close quarters in here made his gaze into something that she probably ought to have avoided. He looked like he was trying by just staring to read her mind. She couldn't decide, really, if she wished he would or not. On one hand, she wanted him to act on this thing that had been hovering between them, unspoken, for so long. On the other hand, he was her best friend, the best friend she could have ever asked for, and she loved him so much that she couldn't bear to lose him if he decided to dump her down on the Powell Estates and run because of this. If he wasn't capable of thinking of her like she was thinking of him, then she was reasonably certain she just wanted him to take it as one of her usual flirting teases.

"Actually," he said, eyes boring into hers, "I can. Pretty flexible, me."

For some reason, that statement, which probably should have put her off, that she probably should be interpreting as, "No, Rose, go away," was being interpreted as "want me to show you?". Possibly this was because he often said impressive things and then tried to prove them. Possibly this was because that dull ache for him suddenly gained purchase as a pool of heat settling low in her belly, a wave of desire that tugged at her groin. Or that last was the other way around, maybe. Either way, she felt her knickers dampening and her face flushing and her heart rate accelerating.

The Doctor's nostrils flared and his eyes went dark. "Fantastic." His voice had never sounded like this before, a low, intense, growling sort of sound that had that pool of heat starting a slow boil.

"Wh-what?" she managed, breathlessly.

"Just realizin' somethin' I shoulda figured out ages ago," the Doctor replied, with a smug smirk that looked a bit different from his usual smug smirk. She would have blamed the blue paint, except that his hands were on her hips and she couldn't remember when they'd gotten there. One of them was toying with the waist band of her trousers, resting just above the curve of her bum. "Something I've noticed about you before, this fantastic smell, gets in my head, makes me wanna behave very, _very_ badly." His body was flush against hers. There was a hardness pressing into her that he couldn't blame on anything in his pockets as he had no pockets.

"Wh-what?" she breathed again, trembling with the effort of not melting on the spot. She had wished for this, wanted this, but she was having trouble connecting everything that seemed to be happening with herself at the moment.

He leaned over, put his lips next to her ear. She bit her lip over a surprised exclamation when she felt his teeth nibbling lightly at the lobe. His voice was jet black and full of sin as he whispered, "You're wet, Rose, and you want me."

There was nothing for it but to turn her head, nothing else she could have thought at that moment beyond plastering her lips over his, wrapping her arms around his neck, drowning herself in her Doctor and his taste. His lips were cool against hers and, as he parted them to allow her entrance, she wondered if she would melt from the heat of wanting him or he would melt in the heat of her body. She felt like she was burning, on fire, for him, always him, only him.

His hand moved from her hip to her hair, his long fingers twining through the blonde strands, tilting her head, taking the kiss. Her tongue brushed against his and he used his own to capture it, setting the pair into a slow, sensual orbit around each other, inside her mouth. She whimpered when his tongue glided along the length of hers, moaned when it started seeking every secret of her mouth, gasped when it set a lazy rhythm of mimicking thrusts between her lips. By the time he broke the kiss, she was already ruined, her mouth his alone just like her heart had always been.

His lips trailed away from her mouth, slipping slowly, lingering across her face, along her jaw, up to the shell of her ear. His tongue came out again, then traced the upper contour. She was lost in bliss, but not so lost that her hands couldn't steal these moments to touch him, to learn his body. One hand trailed up to run across the soft bristles of his dark hair, the only part of him she'd seen yet that hadn't been painted. The other slipped around to brush his ear; she'd always been curious, after all, and some times had the naughtiest ideas for them.

It was his turn to moan, and then he whispered, while his mouth was still involved in exploring her own ear, "An' now I'll follow you anywhere..."

She blushed, flaming crimson, and pulled back from him, amazed and more than a little awed. "I was just saying!" she exclaimed.

He chuckled. "But it was such a good idea," he teased. His grin was there, soft and lazy and relaxed, and she wished she could see his face clearly because she wanted to indulge herself in memorizing every expression, especially ones like this that she'd never seen before. He kissed her again, stoking the fire inside her as slowly as he explored her mouth.

She let her hands wander over his shoulders, this time, over his back, and his body twitched with every light caress, lean muscles shifting as her hands learned them. When she finally got down to the spot she'd been dying to touch since the instant she laid eyes on it, she gave a firm squeeze with both hands and he broke the kiss to gasp her name.

She grinned up at him and he grinned back. "Been wantin' to get my hands here all day," she confessed.

"So you have been ogling my bum," he accused playfully. "Thought so." Muscles flexed beneath her fingers.

"But it's so lovely," she said with a pout.

"You can wash it if you want," he said, his voice back in that low, rumbling growl that was turning her bones to jelly.

"I will," she decided, and her voice had gone back to husky and suggestive as well. "Slowly," she added.

"You gonna obsess over my backside, then?"

"Dunno," she teased. "What else you got that's impressive?" She rocked her hips against him, tantalizing hints of what was normally caged by denim and a Time Lord's restraint pressing against her.

His hands caught her and held her still. "You're overdressed," he announced. "Need to fix that."

The strangely designed native top she was wearing was an intricate wrap that had taken her awhile to put on but, oddly enough, the Doctor seemed to know exactly where to tug to leave her standing there with a small pile of fabric sliding slowly down her body. He watched it with a fascinated gaze, then as it slipped to the floor, he let his eyes wander back up. On this planet, women traditionally wore nothing under wraps like these, so her small breasts were now bare to his avid attention. Her nipples tightened in anticipation and he watched this, too, his eyes sparkling, one hand twitching. He raised that hand, finally, and let just his knuckles graze her breast, tracing the edge of the areola, his eyes never moving away. Her back arched involuntarily and he made a soft, approving noise, shooting her a quick, delighted grin as if he had conducted a successful experiment.

The Doctor lowered his head and, watching her eyes, bowed slowly to take the nipple in his mouth. Despite knowing what he was going to do, she still cried out in surprise as his cool lips closed over the pebbled peak. His eyes drifted closed as he concentrated on his prize and Rose gasped and whimpered, both in pleasure at the sensation and regret at the loss of the burning gaze upon her. His hand reached and stroked the other breast, his thumb passing roughly over one nipple as his tongue curled over its mate.

She murmured his name softly and planted her hands on his chest, one tugging lightly at the sparse hair on his sternum, the other searching blindly for his nipple. She let a fingernail scrape it when she found it, gasping as he did because his hips bucked sharply into hers. He hissed and his mouth was over hers again, taking her lips strongly this time, his kiss a complete possession.

Somehow, her trousers vanished. She couldn't think of any other possible explanation for it. They were there when the kiss started and gone when the kiss ended. Oh. They were on the floor. She stepped out of them and nudged them away.

"Doctor?" she questioned. It seemed her kissing partner had vanished, too. What the...?

She turned and found him rummaging through a basket full of toiletries the hotel had supplied. He raised his head and grinned triumphantly at her, his expression still brilliant enough, even through the paint, to cause her heart to skip a beat. "Soap," he announced proudly. "Good strong soap, get rid of the artwork."

She nodded, and held out her hand, gesturing him to pass it over. When he seemed to hesitate, she tapped her foot, firmly. "I didn't get to put it on, I'm at least taking it off."

"Funny, I've found maself thinking along the same lines, before." He looked pointedly at the bit of cloth she'd been wearing for a blouse earlier.

She grinned. "Well, then, you understand my problem, here."

"Yeah, an' I'll remember it next time you go traipsing around in some ridiculous little kit that barely covers you, too," he shot back. Then, he winced, eyes darting to the counter top before him. "That is... I mean..."

She nodded firmly. "You'd better," she told him, reaching up to stroke his cheek, to force him to meet her eyes. "Why d'ya think I wear that stuff in the first place?"

The bright grin was back. "Fantastic," he announced decisively. He walked slowly around her, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that felt like the most intimate of touches to her nearly bare body. She couldn't stop watching them, not even to satisfy her curiosity about other parts of him, only, finally to close her eyes to savor the heady sensations that he didn't even have to stroke her to inspire.

The Doctor stepped up behind her at last, his hands on her hips again, drawing her toward him, pulling her firmly up against what she was reasonably certain was a frankly magnificent erection. It felt like her whole body flushed.

His long fingers hooked in the waist of her knickers, sliding them slowly down. She couldn't think. He was kissing her neck, too, teeth gently grazing the skin. His hips were rocking slowly against her. A haze of pleasure washed over her mind and she pressed back into him, a murmured, "Doctor," escaping her lips.

He lowered her knickers from her hips and let them slip down her legs, and then his cool fingers were sliding back up, toying with the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. She sighed and adjusted her stance to give him access, but he didn't do anything but tease. She snaked a hand back behind her, and caught his hip, scraping her nails lightly across smooth skin over hard bone. He twitched and murmured her name against her neck. "Shower," he reminded her.

She let out an explosive breath, convinced she wasn't going to make it through this if he kept changing the subject. Still, she nodded and watched him move toward the shower. It was a very nice shower - a very, very nice shower, since it was about to have a wet, naked Doctor in it. However, she kept a finger firmly on the binding of that loin cloth.

He leaned over to inspect the controls and the loin cloth finally fell away. He shot her a salacious grin over his shoulder and caught it between his toes, picking it up and flinging it into the bin. She shook her head and grinned again as he returned his focus to the shower, mostly, although he did, to her shock and absolute delight, wiggle his bum suggestively.

Rose reached over and stroked the tempting flesh with one hand, the other on his hip, slowly making its way around front. He shifted slightly, apparently unable to resist, and her questing fingers found their goal.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft - she could almost do that - and grinned brilliantly as she gave an experimental stroke. A low groan came from the Doctor and he rocked his hips, seemingly unable to help himself. Rose was thrilled. All the control of months and months seemed to have evaporated completely. She was going to have him in the shower and on the bed and maybe on the floor and against a wall and there was a rather interesting chair out in the room, and back in the TARDIS, there was the library and the kitchen and the jump-seat and...

There was warm water pouring down now and the Doctor was guiding her under the spray. She laughed aloud from the happiness bubbling up inside her, and kissed him frantically. He chuckled against her lips and kissed her back, then drew away from her slightly. "Patience," he murmured.

Patience be damned, they'd waited long enough. She nodded though, and took the soap, kneeling at his feet. With a smirk - heard that gasp and definitely heard the whimper - she set to work removing the paint from his feet and toes. But she wasn't going to ignore what was, literally, right in front of her face. Every part of him was wholly beautiful, but his erect penis was a sight to behold.

Rose didn't know what she'd expected, honestly, though now that she thought about it, she'd probably expected him to be a bit alien. If he was, it wasn't obvious on visual inspection. And he hadn't been painted blue here, at least, so there was nothing to prevent her from immediately deciding he was everything she had ever dared to fantasize about and more.

She glanced up at him and met the hooded blue eyes that were peering down at her, his body curved to keep the water off her face. "This all right?" she asked softly, leaning closer to him. Water sluiced down over both their bodies and his eyes burned into her as he slowly nodded. She grinned and, because she wanted to (which wasn't something she could actually remember happening before) she traced her tongue up the entire length of his shaft from base to tip.

The Doctor, in response, shivered from his toes to the top of his head, a low groan escaping him that sounded almost pained. She glanced up at him again and those overwhelming eyes were closed, his mouth forming words that he didn't say out loud. She smiled and leaned forward, taking him into her mouth, her tongue swirling over the head, exploring.

"Rose..." Her name and a whole series of song-like, jangling words fell down from overhead as she sucked him. Profanity in other languages joined it as her fist wrapped round the base, her other hand reaching lightly to stroke his testicles. They were large and tight in her hand and she continued to stroke them even as his hand closed on her shoulder.

The sweetness of his pre-cum, not at all like anything she'd expected, coated her tongue as she found a rhythm of suck and stroke that he seemed to like. Her own body responded immediately and she moaned around him as another surge of arousal tore through her. That hand on her shoulder tightened, and she expected any second that he would give in to the trembling, let his hips buck into her, give in to the want that she could practically feel rising within him.

Instead, he very gently pushed her away. She let go of him with a soft popping noise and a great reluctance, pouting up at him. He shook his head. Fine. She let her hand glide up and down the length of his sex and then, calmly, let her hands drop. He nodded approvingly and she really, really felt like pouting. "Doctor..."

His hands went under her arms and he lifted her up, kissing her mouth hungrily, teeth and tongue and lips all utterly absorbed in the task of claiming her. "Not here," he whispered, then nibbled lightly at her lower lip. "Not like that."

She whimpered a small complaint, trying as she was to get closer to him even now. "Want you," she muttered.

"Want you, too, Rose," he promised. "So much, too much." He kissed her fiercely, fingers twined in her hair. "Precious girl," he whispered across her cheek. "Take you to bed," he murmured in her ear. "Make love to you all night long," he promised against her throat. "Scream for me, scream for you," was dragged along her collar bone. "Make you mine." He punctuated that last with another searing kiss and by tugging her against him. His cock strained against her belly and she wrapped a leg around his waist, rubbing her wet, hot sex against him.

There was a loud, screeching noise from the main room. Rose tried to ignore it. The Doctor chuckled and broke the kiss. "Phone," he suggested.

"Never fails," she agreed and proceeded to ignore it anyway, hunting for the soap. Her legs were trembling, she couldn't think, she could hardly breathe. At last, at last, and all she had to do was get this paint off him and then he promised, oh god, and she couldn't wait, didn't want to wait, not now, not ever, ever again.

She found the soap and trailed it up his chest, working up a rich blue lather across his pectoral muscles. He stretched and practically purred when her fingers found his nipples again. "Think you like this, Doctor," she teased.

"Could do, yeah," he agreed huskily. "Think you like it, too," he added, his large hand cupping her bum and pulling her hips up against him again.

Rose leaned back to look at him, watching the water sluice down over his chest, revealing bare, sexy Doctor to her hungry eyes. Still so much paint to take off him. She pouted and asked him to turn around, so she could get started on his back. Well, his bum. She decisively started there, caressing the muscles made firm but not over-dramatic by hours and hours of running for their lives.

"You really are gonna obsess over my back side," he teased.

"But it's so lovely," she answered, affecting a bit of a whine. She did let her hands trail up his back to his shoulders, thinking how lovely it would be to get him clean so she could trail her tongue up his spine.

He turned abruptly to kiss her again, and his hands dropped to her waist, then lower, questing, exploring and finally, finally reaching. Delicate and rough at the same time, his fingers parted her folds, found that sensitive bundle of nerves, and stroked it. She tore her mouth from his to shout his name, her hips rocking insistently as her knees parted to give him better access. Despite the warmth of the water, his fingers were still cool against her burning flesh, and she found that she adored the temperature differential between them. It was like he soothed the burning within her, even as his touch drove it higher.

"So hot," the Doctor whispered. "Oh, Rose, so wet an' hot an'..." Here he lapsed into alien dialects again, chiming and sibilant and guttural in alternating words. She wasn't sure she would have understood him even if he'd been speaking perfect English, simply because he was blinding and deafening her. All she could hear was her blood rushing through her veins, her heart pounding. All she could see was pitch black with an indigo halo, his eyes as they held hers while he pleasured her.

He groaned in what sounded remarkably like the same frustration she was feeling as he lowered his head to kiss her again. His hands stilled and she wanted to curse. Instead, she kissed him back frantically, tongue dueling with his, filled with desperation to be closer to him, and closer still.

"Mine," the Doctor grumbled against her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip.

"Mine," Rose answered on a moan, nipping at his lip in exchange.

He pulled away from her and stared at her, eyes wide with wonder. He pulled his hands away from her aching sex and she almost felt like slapping him, but she sensed that the air had taken on a very serious turn. He set both hands on her shoulders and, very slowly, he nodded. "Yours," he agreed.

She felt like she might just be glowing, she smiled so ecstatically at this pronunciation. "Yours," she told him, proudly admitting at last what had been true for ages, since the Dalek, since Charles Dickens, since "It also travels in time", maybe since "Run." Maybe before that, maybe always. Maybe she had been conjured into her cradle with his name already emblazoned on her heart. It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest.

He hugged her. Soaking wet, naked as water nymphs, standing in a shower, and one of them still half painted blue, absolutely nothing to prevent them from shagging each other rotten but will power alone, and he gave her one of his chaste, ecstatic hugs. She could do nothing but hug enthusiastically back.

When he pulled away from the embrace, though, his eyes were black with desire again. His voice was like burning velvet. "We can play more later. Let's get rid of the artwork. Now."

Working together and with a goal in mind, Rose and the Doctor could move entire mountain ranges in a very short period of time. Paint was no obstacle for them, not for long. The goal this time was measureless, an intimacy long sought after and never spoken, not merely the sharing of bodies but the sharing of selves. They tackled the paint with a will. Maybe the Doctor did get tickled on one occasion, and maybe Rose did get snogged in more than one instance, and maybe they did find ways to tease moans and higher arousal out of each other, but in a short time, the Doctor stood, completely bare and tanned a subtle gold to Rose Tyler's delighted eyes. She made a mental note to tease him later about the very obvious application of naked sun-bathing, mostly to ask why she hadn't been invited.

He fidgeted a bit self-consciously as she looked him over, checking to be sure they'd missed nothing. Satisfied, she reached over and cut the water. They stepped out of the shower together and Rose fetched them both towels. They weren't nice ones like the bath sheets in the TARDIS, but they were good enough as far as hotel towels went.

The Doctor ran his across his hair, wiped his face, and then wrapped it around his waist. Rose wrung her hair out with one, then tugged the other around her, cinching it between her breasts. She followed the Doctor as he walked out into the suite, suddenly worried.

"You're not... not changing your mind, are you?" she asked, more than a little ashamed at the soft plea in her voice.

He turned and looked at her, stroking the side of her face. "Does this feel like I'm changin' my mind?" he asked softly. He leaned closer, nipped lightly at her ear, caught her hand in his free one, "Or this?" he questioned. He lifted her hand then, guiding it gently, "Or this?" He placed her hand over his shaft, still hard as he responded to her tentative touch. His hand still guided hers as she stroked the length of him through the towel.

"I wanted to go slow for you," he murmured. "I... you deserve... I want..."

"What do you want?" she asked, letting the towel around her drop to the floor. Her eyes followed a bold drop of water as it slipped slowly down his chest and, unable to resist it when it forged a trail toward the sparse hair tracing his sternum, she leaned over and licked it off.

He hissed sharply. "You," he ground out.

Rose smiled. She had only one more question, then. "Do we need protection?"

He shook his head. "Biocontrol," he said. "Makes me sterile. Well, should be sterile, anyway, me, but I won't risk it."

Rose blinked in surprise. "Thought you'd say we're incompatible or something," she admitted.

"You humans are compatible with just about every sentient thing," he said with a chuckle. "Funny little quirk of your biology on the atomic level."

Later, maybe much later, she would have to ask him. He didn't do domestic, and she was so young, but later, maybe... maybe they should. If he would, maybe, if they wanted...

Right now, she just wanted him. She tugged at the towel around his waist and it dropped in a puddle at his feet. She reached for him, then, but he scooped her up and carried her across the room, shifting her weight slightly against him as he swept back the covers from the bed. He laid her down on it, then, gently, and just stared at her as she wiggled toward the center of the bed to make room for him.

"Beautiful," he pronounced.

"All yours," she added, and raised a hand to invite him to join her.

"I just... Rose, I... God, you're perfect." He laid down next to her and immediately seized her mouth in a kiss like he was starving for her. His hands were everywhere and she turned in to him, trying to get closer, to touch him like he was touching her. His lips drifted away from her mouth, gliding down to her throat, then down her sternum, while her fingers curled in his cropped hair.

Want rose to ache which boiled over to need when his lips closed on one of her breasts, sucking hard at the taut nipple. The motion sent a tremor over her whole body and her internal muscles clenched tightly in response. She reached between them and stroked his cock, delighted as it pulsed and swelled, hardening further, in her hand. His fingers found the damp curls between her thighs, his thumb brushing lightly and then more firmly across her swollen clit.

"Doctor, please," she gasped out, not even sure what she was begging for anymore. He raised his head to look at her, his lips fastening over hers again, his tongue stroking between her parted lips. She continued to stroke his sex, sliding her thumb over the head with every pass, her fingers sliding down to tease his balls every time she reached the base.

His long fingers found her entrance and slipped inside her and she stiffened, her back arching, his name and inarticulate filth tumbling from her lips at random. He never stopped stroking her clit, and when he added a second finger, she lost any sort of control she might have had left, her hands falling away from his body to fist into the bed sheets as an orgasm stole her body and sent her flying apart.

When she returned to herself, shocked and giddy, the expression of awe and delight in his eyes nearly brought her to tears. "You just... I've never... I mean... Doctor..." She didn't even know what to say, when every thought in her head believed "thank you," might be accurate but weird. But she'd never had an orgasm as a prelude to sex before. In fact, she'd never actually had an orgasm during sex by any deliberate action on her partner's part. This was completely new and amazing to her. Well, there was one thing she could say. "Want you. Inside me. Now."

And she did, too. She still craved him with a depth of desire that was almost absurd. She'd never felt like this, not ever. "Doctor?"

"Your wish is my command," he murmured and moved between her parted thighs. She wrapped one of them up around his hip as he took a deep breath, finding his place. Their eyes locked and he shifted slowly. She felt the head of his penis at her wet and ready entrance, but his hands seized her hips before she could buck up into him. "Shouldn't..." he complained brokenly. She couldn't even guess what the sudden turmoil in his darkened eyes was about. He shook his head, dragged another breath through swollen, parted lips. With a single thrust and a shout of her name, he buried himself inside her.

The musical sounds of his language tumbled from his lips, until they covered hers in another desperate kiss. Rose had never felt so full, so stretched in her life. She rocked against him and he broke the kiss to mutter more chiming profanity, punctuated by a quick withdrawal and a sharp thrust back into her depths. He found a rhythm, locking their gazes as his body moved slowly against her, above her, within her.

Her whole body was tingling and that sensation slowly focused itself down to two points, at her center where their bodies joined and, inexplicably, between her eyes. She frowned, forced herself to concentrate on that anomalous sensation, and then, for an instant, the entire world rocked sideways. Everything spun, perception tilted, and she felt what it was like to be inside herself, enfolded and enraptured in the most intimate embrace, the heat of her body almost hotter than the blazing lust in her blood... his blood... her?... _his_...

The Doctor's movements stilled and the world righted itself. An insane craving ignited itself inside Rose's skull, an almost unholy lust for a sensation she had never experienced before. He peered down at her, tears standing in his eyes. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't let me..."

"Please!" she begged him. "God, Doctor, please, just... if you want... if you need..." She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks but she didn't care.

"It's forever, Rose," he whispered, anguished.

"Forever, Doctor," she agreed, and wrapped both her legs around him, arching up into him.

A low, formless cry broke from his lips, and he crushed her to him, pounding into her now, his thrusts desperate and hungry and then...

_She was him inside of her, touching her, her breasts pressed against his chest, her eyes staring deep into her own eyes. The desire, the intense, lonely, weary ache for her was like the storm that raged inside him, like a fever in his blood that stole his sanity, that made him crave everything, anything, just for her, always her, to be with her, around her, in her..._ It was like drowning in honey, suffocating in starlight. It flooded all of her senses, everywhere, and somehow she was aware, though she wasn't sure whose awareness it even was, that every muscle in her body clenched, that her back bowed, that her eyes flew wide, that she was coming hard around him, her nails raking into his back as his hands splayed across her shoulders, holding her body tight against his.

Like water drained from a bath, the sensation of duality passed and she was Rose again, but the Doctor was there, and she could feel him, feel everything about him, feel how she felt to him, feel his awareness of how he felt to her. This wasn't just intimacy, this was true oneness.

Grinning madly, she deliberately tightened her internal muscles around him, gasping as he did at the incredible feelings inside her. "My Doctor," she whispered. He was so close, she could feel it, the need for release, the desperation to lose himself to the pleasure of her, to forget, to let go.

She stroked a hand down his back, cupped his bum, and whispered, "Come for me."

He gave a guttural shout, thrust hard and deep, once, twice, three times, and then, his body shuddered, stiffened. Inside her body, his cock throbbed. Inside her head, his pleasure washed out her connection to reality like a tidal wave over a beach. Another orgasm, triggered almost entirely by his, ambushed her from nowhere as his seed drenched her insides, almost icy against her heat.

He rolled with her, tenderly situating her so that she lay sprawled comfortably atop him. "My Rose," he whispered, and a long series of chiming notes. "My _forever_ Rose."

She petted his hair, wonder and exhaustion twinned in her body and in her heart. "Mine," she murmured, and lapped the salt of his skin with her tongue.

He chuckled lightly. "Yours," he agreed, and kissed the top of her head. "Your _forever_ Doctor."

He kissed her temple and soothed her skin with cool fingers while she lay supine and listened to the doubled throb of his heart beats. After awhile she felt a bit more like she could move, so she raised off him and dropped to his side, immediately trying to burrow as close to him as she could get. "How do you feel?" he asked, gently.

"You have to ask?" she wondered. She knew how he felt - excited and giddy and slightly nervous and anticipating and thrilled. She giggled. "I feel fantastic," she decided.

He laughed, a real, genuine, honest laugh, music more beautiful than any song she'd ever heard. "Yeah, you do," he agreed cheekily, giving her his best manic grin.

As she drifted off to sleep, all Rose could think was that she was so glad she'd met him.

*?*

"So what was all the writing about?" Rose wondered some time later. She was supposed to be getting dressed and going down to find the Doctor some clothes, but at the moment, she didn't much feel like moving. She blamed him, insofar as anything like "blame" could be given to someone who made love like his soul was on fire, and had done so twice since she'd woken up from the first bout.

"Advertising," the Doctor explained. He was in the loo, shaving, having just gotten out of his second shower of the - well, day wasn't accurate, but whatever. "Respiratory bypass - means I can hold my breath for a damn sight longer than a human can. Dual cardiovascular system, means..."

"Serious staying power and next to no refractory period," Rose commented cheekily. "Yeah, figured that out."

Face still half-covered in shaving foam, he stuck his head out the door and grinned at her. "You've not seen anything, yet, love."

"Seein' quite a bit at the moment," she said, and let her eyes dance blissfully over his bare lines and angles. "Did you know you're gorgeous?"

He shook his head incredulously. "Still not sure I get that," he admitted.

"I'll let you get finished in there an' then I'll show you," she said, huskily.

His laughter twirled around her, singing in her head even when he wasn't in her sight. Rose lay back against the covers and purred contentedly. Her Doctor. She would never again have to wonder how long she could stay with him. He was hers and she was his and this was forever.

Her mobile rang and she reached over to the bedside table to pick it up, remembering the last time it rang and how she could never have guessed what would come from that call. "H'lo?"

She listened to Jack on the other end of the line and, unable to help herself, started to laugh. The Doctor, now clean and freshly shaved came padding in from the en suite to look at her expectantly. "It's Jack," she said. "He's back at the TARDIS and bored and wants to know where we are."

"Tell him I'm up to my eyeballs in somethin' an' don't have time to worry with him right now," the Doctor replied. With that, he snagged her ankle, dragged her sideways across the bed, and threw himself down between her legs.

Rose giggled and then gasped as his lips trailed slowly up the inside of her thighs. A trifle breathlessly, she relayed the Doctor's message to Jack, then tried very hard to listen to the ex-Time Agent complain while the Time Lord gave her absolutely nothing to complain about. Something Jack said registered all at once, and Rose laughed helplessly at the irony. "We'll call you later, Jack. Try not to get arrested."

She rang off and the Doctor peeked up at her expectantly, the tip of his tongue poised... god, just _there!_ "What'd he say?" the Doctor asked, his words brushing cool air across her suddenly soaking center.

She shook her head, trying to remember who "he" was and why he would say anything. Couldn't possibly be important, could it? The Doctor drew a series of Gallifreyan formal letters over her clit and, surprisingly, that reminded her. "He said to get your face out of my crotch and let's go somewhere else."

The Doctor snorted and Rose shuddered. "Not done, yet," he replied, and resumed his spelling lesson.

Rose dropped the mobile somewhere and let him get on with it. Not done yet, indeed. Not done, ever. Not them.

As the Doctor lifted her, once again, to the absolute heights of ecstasy, Rose knew with a certainty that felt deeper than truth that she was where she had always belonged, together, with her Doctor, forever.

The best love stories, after all, had happy endings.

 

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> For OV a long time ago. First cross-posting since LJ.
> 
> This piece was beta-read by the lovely and talented **ThroughAnAmberFocus** , who receives my thanks, praise, and adoration for the fast turn around and brilliant assistance. Poor Sam has, as is often the case, come up with the clever title.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> So extra thanks to all who've helped out, and hope you enjoy to all who read.


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